Page 65 of Santa Baby

“’Kay.” I watched him leave the room, probably to give me privacy to change into the warm and dry clothes. I slipped out of my dress, unsure what to do with it, and pulled on his comfy college attire. The sweatpants were huge lengthwise but fit me nicely in the hips, a little tight around my ass, of course, but I was sure Mason wouldn’t mind the view.

What was wrong with me? I shook my head and pulled the sweatshirt over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the fabric was soft as cashmere, worn in over the years.

The smell of chocolate drifted through the air and I whirled to find him walking back through the door holding two mugs in one hand and a kettle in the other. He’d changed—I wasn’t sure how—but he was now wearing black joggers and a thick henley shirt that made him look like someone I would have met at a coffee shop, not a billionaire mastermind. “Do you want to sit out on the deck?”

“Are you joking?” I choked out, pointing to the storm howling against the window.

“I have something to show you. You’re not afraid of heights, right?”

“No, but I thought you were,” I said.

“It’s fine. Trust me.”

I shook my head and followed him out of his bedroom to the far side of the second floor. A small sitting area faced a set of wide, glass double doors leading to a covered balcony.

He stepped out first, set the mugs and kettle down on a low concrete table in the center of the balcony, and motioned for me to grab a blanket off one of the chairs inside. Curious, I did so and edged out onto the balcony expecting to be hit by bitter wind and icy snow.

“It’s completely walled in with glass,” he said with a wave of the hand. “I keep it open in the summer.”

I looked up at the glass ceiling, noticing that it must fold into itself like a convertible car roof. I licked my lips, blinking at him. “Darling, are we rich?”

He choked on a laugh. “Just a little bit.”

Now I was the one laughing. It was still cold out there, just enough that I could feel the bite through my clothes. I sat on a plush couch facing the view of snowy skyscrapers and blinking lights while he poured two cups of hot chocolate and fumbled with a remote. I squeaked in surprise when the concrete table burst into flames. Well, it wasn’t that dramatic, but down the center, a line of blue flames appeared, shimmering and reflecting off the smooth, onyx pebbles within.

Heat barreled toward me and sent a shiver of pleasure licking up my skin. Mason draped the blanket over me and promptly sat beside me, resting his arm over the top of the couch in a perfect position for me to rest my head against.

Silently, we watched the cityscape.

“I’d be out all the time if I lived here,” I said in a whisper, like speaking any louder would somehow ruin the moment.

“I spend a lot of time out here. I never get tired of the view. I think it’s the one thing I’ll miss when I move.”

“Why did you feel the need to move? Other than being afraid of elevators?”

He leaned a little closer, nestling against me. I allowed him, by the grace of my kind and generous heart, to share his own blanket with him. “I’m in my thirties, well off. It wasn’t a purchase that would put me out in any way. I was looking toward the future when I bought it. Thinking about things I hadn’t thought before, like how good the nearby schools were, the neighbors, the parks. If my future wife could fit whatever luxury SUV I bought her in the carriage-style garage. What it would feel like to sit in the living room on Christmas watching our kids open their presents.” His voice tapered off, his fingers drawing absent circles on my shoulder. “I just felt like it was time to give myself the chance, I guess, at having something more than I was allowing myself.”

Hot chocolate forgotten, I turned to him, stretching out my legs over his. Was I doing so to get closer, or just steal his warmth? Probably both, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “Your dad is wrong, you know. I think you’re great. I think you do a lot more for your family name than he realizes.”

Mason brushed his nose against mine, his eyes closed, his body relaxed. “Thank you, Fia. That means a lot to me.” His hands came up to steady me, resting on my hips as I slid into his lap.

It was impulsive. My brain just shut off, went numb, went dark. The only thing that remained on my mind was the idea of kissing him, so I did. It was gentle at first, warm and sweet. But his taste set something off in my body, something that spread like wildfire and woke up parts of me that had been dormant until I met him.

He kissed me back, and the kiss took on an edge of desperation that took my breath away only a few moments later. I opened my eyes. He opened his. We stared at each other for a moment and I almost said, “Please,” like I was willing to beg for it on my knees, and maybe I would have, but I didn’t need to.

His eyes on mine, he picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me back to his bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He laid me on the bed and kissed me again, harder this time, more open and demanding. The tension we’d been fighting for what felt like ages snapped and shattered around us like glass.

He groaned low in his throat when my lips found his neck, sucking his flesh and raking my teeth over it. His hands slipped beneath my sweatshirt, cupping my breasts. The touch was enough to make me whimper with longing, and he met that need, pulling off his shirt and rolling me under the covers until we were warm and naked against each other. I kicked my sweatpants down, losing them deep in the recesses of his sheets.

His hands explored every inch of my body. His mouth pressed kisses from my lips down to my inner thighs and by the time he made his way up again I was losing myself entirely. “Do you have a condom?” I barely recognized my own voice. It was deep, slightly ragged.

He lifted up, reached for his bedside table, and fumbled in the drawer. I snatched it from him the second he found it and ripped it open with my teeth.

He choked on a sound that could have been a laugh or a groan of the deepest kind of pleasure. I ran my fingers down his muscled abdomen before sliding the condom onto his cock, slowly, adding a little bit of pressure. He was big. Big enough I would need a minute to adjust. He recognized that in my eyes and lowered his face to mine, gently nipping at my lower lip as he fit himself between my legs.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the night I met you,” he admitted, his voice like gravel. “You are perfect. Your body… I can’t get it out of my head.” He entered me slowly, drawing out a sigh as I closed around him tightly. “Fuck, Fia. You feel amazing.”

His praise worked its way through my body, settling deep in my bones. There had been a point when I wondered what Mason would be like in bed, given his adverse reaction to most social settings. But I found him giving and enthusiastic. He didn’t hold back when it felt good, and it felt great. He whispered the filthiest things in my ear while I raked my nails over his back, panting for breath, moaning his name. He rocked into me, grinding his hips against mine and hitting spots so deep I felt pleasure I’d never known.